


Two Birds in the Hand

by aeskis



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Terrible things happen, be warned, noncon and torture ahead, ralph dibney has an important part to play, so much hurt, where did this come from?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 19:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13887993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeskis/pseuds/aeskis
Summary: Zoom leans down, gripping the kid’s chin and forcing his face toward the camera. “Enough story time. I have a script for you.” He kneels fully, and without warning, simultaneously yanks Barry’s head back and his body up with one hand, while the other wraps around the boy’s now exposed throat. “Look straight at the lens—yes, excellent—and tell the good Central City police not to fuck with Zoom. He doesn’t like it. Oh, and—" Zoom adds as an afterthought. “This is a public service announcement.”Barry swallows hard, the motion obvious even covered by Zoom’s hand, and tries to speak. He can only mouth the words soundlessly. Zooms gives him a shake, making him flail for balance. “This is your big moment, Barry Allen. Your final chance. Don’t disappoint.”After a few more pitiful attempts, Barry manages to croak into the camera, “Don’t … don’t fuck ….  with Zo—Zoom. He—” By the time the kid finally finishes the three lines, he’s practically incoherent.Zoom abruptly releases Barry, who slumps, boneless, to the ground.  “You won’t be winning a speech contest anytime soon. But I think they got the message.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have this really cheery end in mind for An (Un)Acceptable Arrangement. And then this awful idea starting writing itself. 
> 
> I've messed up timelines (so original, right?) and mixed up seasons and ... screwed with stuff. You can tell because I put Leonard Snart and Hunter Zolomon in the same story.
> 
> What happens is OOC. I know for sure I intensified certain personality traits. The worst ones. There're moments of levity. Those exist to emphasize how bad the situation is by contrast.
> 
> I've written about ... 3/4 of the whole story. So more chapters will be posted fairly quickly (for me).
> 
> Please, if you leave a comment, encourage me to write happy fluff. T-T

Leonard Snart isn’t an evil man. He’s not a good one, certainly, and if he leaves a couple of dead bodies behind on gigs, he’s not going to cry himself to sleep. Len likes what he does too much to stop and there’s a steadily growing dossier in the CCPD station to attest to his continuing streak of successful robberies. Snart’s been very high on their list of criminals to put away in Iron Heights. It’s possible that Len isn’t totally displeased about that. But there’s a lot of smoke in the show he puts on to maintain his image. 

Then, about a year ago, Zoom entered the scene, and gave law enforcement an entirely new and infinitely more dangerous subject of focus. Along with him he’d brought along people with superhuman abilities—metahumans, that was the popular term—as minions. Now he’s drawn a ring of terror around and throughout Central City. CCPD is literally standing still while Zoom races by, doing whatever he wants, which is generally to kill and destroy. Zoom has proved time and again that the whole police force together no match for him. To be fair … what is? 

The people of Central City are dying to know the answer to that question—in the most literal way. Sometimes Len gets a whiff of a rumor that a biochemist is working on a serum to incapacitate Zoom, but that’s all it’s been. Rumors. Wishful thinking born of desperation. 

Len’s thinking it’s time to lay low and not draw a madman’s attention to his exploits. But, sadly, Leonard Snart’s reputation as a master thief precedes him. Len can’t say he’s taken by surprise when Zoom strolls into one of the most secure of Len’s safehouses. More specifically, he strolls through a triple-bolted door into the living room while Len is eating breakfast with Lisa—because, it’s true, not-so-bad guys do eat breakfast. 

Lisa screams at Zoom’s sudden appearance. Len would like to scream with her, but he can’t reveal that kind of vulnerability to a monster. So, Len finishes the remaining mouthful of omelet and then pushes the plate away before turning his gaze to Zoom, who is standing incongruously a few feet away.

“Sorry, we finished off the eggs,” Len says, as casually as he can. “You’ll find a few pancakes on the stove, though.”

Zoom laughs. That’s what Len assumes he’s doing. The reverberating sound makes his ears hurt. “I didn’t come here for the food.”

Len gives a sidelong glance to Lisa, warning her to stay quiet, before schooling his face into a coolly puzzled expression. “Then how can I help you?”

“I’d like you to steal something for me.”

Before Len can answer, before he can even formulate a response, Zoom is gone. And … he’s taken Lisa, leaving Len staring at the single red-gold strand on the palm of his hand, glinting in the sunlight.

****

Now he’s chained to the wall in the corner of a lair—a lair! Villains had honest-to-God lairs?—awaiting Zoom’s instructions. Len watches the play of shadows at the cavern entrance as the hours tick by. He’s familiar with the tactic—making targets wait. Sweat. Run themselves into the ground in mindless panic.

There’s a rush of air, and then he’s not alone. Zoom’s standing in the center of the room, waving an expansive arm and talking. Len recognizes the theatrics of a megalomaniac, but to soliloquize? This man’s batshit crazy. 

No, there’re two people—a man and a woman—retching at Zoom’s feet. Len can sympathize. His stomach didn’t find the ride appealing either. He cranes his neck to get a better view of what’s going on.

“Get up,” Zoom says, his tone mild despite the command. 

They’re young … so young. Not so much a man and woman as a boy and girl frightened out of their wits. They jump at Zoom’s artificially deep growl.

“I get my victims in pairs.” Zoom is saying. “I’d like to say it’s for the company, but honestly, I do it because two people are easier to control than one.” He looks at his newest acquisition, whose pallor is apparent despite her dark skin. She’s frozen with fear. Zoom examines her critically. “Looks like overkill in this case, though.” 

“What—what do you want?” It’s the nerdy-looking young man next to her, rather forgettable on first glance next to the stunning beauty of his companion. He’s edging in between her and Zoom; it’d be laughable—as if Zoom couldn’t get past him, through him should Zoom so choose—if the attempt wasn’t so sad. 

Zoom’s gaze slides to the boy. Len’s had that look trained on him before, and however much of a genuine badass Leonard Snart is, Zoom’s conspicuously sadistic insanity had chilled him to the core. 

It’s not like the kid’s unaffected, either. He’s white and shaking but stands his ground in front of the girl. Len has to admire him. Stronger men haven’t dared to get in Zoom’s way.

Zoom reaches behind his head and methodically removes the mask to reveal a strikingly handsome man whose face has been on the news all week. Hunter Zoloman could have been an actor if he hadn’t decided to focus on murder instead. 

“You and Miss West were walking together at the time I came to … pick her up. I hope you didn’t mind the impromptu ride.”

“Why are you targeting Iris?” The girl seems to wake a little from her shock and tries to pull him back away from their captor. The boy doesn’t budge, but Len can see his right hand reaching behind him to clasp hers tightly.

Zoom is dismissive of this interruption. “I might as well let you both know.” His smile is condescending, as though he’s expending more generosity than they deserve. “Unfortunately for you, Miss West, Detective Joe West is your father.” 

Realization dawns on both captives, but if anything, the knowledge frightens them even more than their prior ignorance. 

“To recap, Detective West led the investigation that revealed my everyday identity.” Zoom indicates his unmasked face. “Now I can’t even show up at Jitters as myself. Shame. The cappuccino is better than anywhere else in Central City. Then again … I’m not confined to one city, am I?”

Iris’s voice wavers precariously as she confirms aloud, “You want revenge on my dad. You’re getting to him through me.”

“I’ll get to him personally soon enough. But a little jolt to his heart wouldn’t hurt my reputation.” In a blink Zoom has shoved the boy aside hard enough to stun him, so Iris is standing alone.

Len looks away. He’s heard plenty of what Zoom does to his victims. He hasn’t had the opportunity to be present at one of Zoom’s executions. He is now, though, and he can close his eyes all he wants; Len won’t be able to block out the screams. Zoom is going to rip this innocent girl apart.

“Wait!” It’s the boy again, struggling to get to his feet. “You don’t have to do this.”

Zoom rolls his eyes. If the circumstances weren’t so dire, Len might have too. Seriously? Is the kid going to appeal to the heart of a monster?

Not bothering to spare a glance at the boy, Zoom replies, in bored tones. “Of course, I don’t. But I will.”

The idiot stumbles over to them, holding up his hands. “You don’t have to hurt … Iris, I mean.” The way he emphasizes the girl’s name piques Zoom’s interest just a little.

“And who,” Zoom asks slowly, “who would I hurt instead? We’ve established that someone is going to die today, yes? To prove a specific point to the Detective.” 

“My name is Barry Allen. I--” 

Zoom considers the information and interrupts, “The kid who got hit by lightning and spent nine months in a coma. The news editorials were just sobbing over you. Until I came along, that is. Then I gave them something else to cry about.”

“Yes, and—” Barry gulps several times. Then the damning words start to spill out. “—and Joe West is my foster father.” 

“Interesting,” Zoom says after a moment, “but you’ll just have to wait your turn.”

“I—I was the CSI on his investigation team.” Barry Allen fumbles with his tag and shows the proof. “I’m the one who found evidence linking Zoom to an escaped serial murderer scheduled for execution—Hunter Zoloman. You.”

Silence. 

If Len hadn’t heard the words himself, he wouldn’t have believed it. Jesus. The kid’s signed his own death warrant. Worse. From the terrified but determined expression on his face, Barry Allen knows what he’s done to himself. 

Zoom regards him silently. “Hm. Now that changes things,” he says at last, stalking over to Barry. “Anything else you’d like to share, CSI Barry Allen? Last words, perhaps?”

Scrawny as he is, Barry is of a fair height; he might be hairsbreadth taller than Len, actually. But he has to look up at Zoom, and the effort seems to drain away whatever meager strength he had left. “Please …”

The boy’s going to beg now. It’s going to be pathetic and tragic and altogether useless, taking into account the information he’s just handed Zoom.

Zoom waits for him to finish with uncharacteristic patience. “Yes?” 

“Don’t make Iris watch,” Barry Allen whispers, trembling uncontrollably and clearly forcing himself to keep his gaze steady.

For a moment, Zoom looks almost surprised. Then he laughs loudly, showing teeth. “I’ll think about it.” Iris takes a step forward in alarmed protest. In a blink Zoom’s put her into one of the cages, gagged and bound but not blindfolded.

Zoom stops Barry before he can react to the changed situation. “Now, turn that way and smile.” Barry stares at him, uncomprehending, as Zoom points at the wall opposite them. “This is all streaming live,” Zoom tells him. “I made sure CCPD can see and hear everything that happens.”

Len’s brows knot in confusion. Surely, with an open feed like that, Zoom would be traced back to his lair. He couldn’t be that stupid. 

As though reading his mind, Zoom grins. “Don’t worry. I happen to have a tech genius working for me. He’ll block any attempts to hack in. And if someone did manage to break through, he’s got an eye on every satellite in the city. I can see anyone coming from miles away. Even then … I doubt the cavalry can charge up this cliff without me realizing their presence.”

Zoom’s arrogant monologue has purpose, Len knows. He’s showing off his invincibility, overawing his enemies and exploiting their fear. 

Len wonders about this tech genius. If only he could be persuaded to betray Zoom, Zoom would lose an immensely valuable ally. 

“His brother is a guest of mine,” Zoom explains to Barry, whose legs have given out on him. “Astonishing, really, that the fact gives him so much incentive to assist me.” 

Zoom leans down, gripping the kid’s chin and forcing his face toward the camera. “Enough story time. I have a script for you.” He kneels fully, and without warning, simultaneously yanks Barry’s head back and his body up with one hand, while the other wraps around the boy’s now exposed throat. 

The girl—Iris West—shrieks behind her gag. No help can be expected from her. It’s not humanly possible. Len’s first assumption, too, is that Zoom is going to break Barry’s neck right in front of his live audience. 

Barry jerks in Zoom’s hold before he hears Iris’ muffled scream. His eyes flicker to her, and then, oddly, he seems to relax, swaying passively on his knees as he’s held upright by Zoom’s stranglehold. The boy’s thought process is so obvious as to be written in bold above his head. Struggling will only make Zoom angry, and an angry Zoom … doesn’t bear thinking about. Suffering his cruelty will be bad enough. Knowing that the girl is about to witness her best friend snapped like a twig … can’t happen. He won’t let it.

Zoom lowers his mouth to Barry’s ear in a mockery of intimacy. “This is what you say. Ready?”

Barry nods mutely. He’ll agree to whatever Zoom wants.

“Look straight at the lens—yes, excellent—and tell the good Central City police not to fuck with Zoom. He doesn’t like it. Oh, and—" Zoom adds as an afterthought. “This is a public service announcement.”

Barry swallows hard, the motion obvious even covered by Zoom’s hand, and tries to speak. He can only mouth the words soundlessly. Zoom gives him a shake, making him flail for balance. “This is your big moment, Barry Allen. Your final chance. Don’t disappoint.” 

After a few more pitiful attempts, Barry manages to croak into the camera, “Don’t … don’t fuck …. with Zo—Zoom. He—” By the time the kid finally finishes the three lines, he’s practically incoherent.

Zoom abruptly releases Barry, who slumps, boneless, to the ground. “You won’t be winning a speech contest anytime soon. But I think they got the message.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Looks like he could use a hand.” The words come out casually but Len can hear the strain underlying the easy line because, fuck it all, *he’s* saying it.
> 
> Eyes widening, Barry twists to see this new threat from the dim corners of the room. Clearly, he hadn’t even realized there was another person here besides Zoom and he and Iris. 
> 
> Zoom levels his freakishly mild gaze at him. “Are you offering, Snart? That’s awfully nice of you.”
> 
> Len lets a thread of scorn enter his voice. “Honestly, it’s too painful to watch. I’ve seen sexier high school biology dissections.”
> 
> In response Barry curls in on himself, hiding his face in his arms. Len wants to vomit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More horrible things, to be followed by more horrible things. There are sick, sick jokes throughout. 
> 
> But as noted in the tags, no character death. Shockingly. It'll make absolutely no sense.

After that chilling PSA, Zoom lets a few minutes go by without speaking, presumably prolonging his enjoyment of the mind-numbing fear emanating from Barry and Iris. 

“I’ve thought about your request, Barry,” Zoom announces, and in a blurry few seconds, Iris is slumped over in the cage. Before Barry can fully register, Zoom waves the chloroformed cloth in front of his face. “I’ve decided to oblige. In return, you answer a few questions.” 

Realizing that Zoom is mockingly waiting for his assent, Barry nods quickly. “What … what do you want to know?”

“When you put all the pieces together and discovered that I was not only impersonating Jay Garrick but was, in fact, also Zoom, how did your colleagues react?”

Barry’s bewilderment is clear even as he answers, “They … didn’t believe me at first.”

“Captain Singh was bragging so much about how much cross-referenced data CCPD had collected on me as evidence. What changed their minds?”

Barry starts to glance at Iris but stops himself. Len finds himself praying that Barry says anything other than what he says next. “I proved it.” Too late, Barry realizes the responsibility he’s assigned to his own perseverance and shuts up.

“I see. As fast as I am, I can’t be everywhere at once, now can I? You were clever enough to exploit that fact. In trying to do the impossible, I gave myself away.”

Barry doesn’t answer.

“Then, I suppose, you became practically a superhero to everyone in the precinct.” 

Barry remains silent.

“Barry.” Zoom doesn’t raise his voice, but the menace is unmistakable. 

Barry jumps a little at the warning sign. “No—no.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“People said … they … they thought I’d just been lucky to come across the theory and that … that Joe’s team really put the picture together.”

“But that’s not the case, is it.” Zoom doesn’t bother to make the sentence a question. “Thank you for the clarifications, Barry.” 

The next few minutes are only a small precursor for what’s going to happen, Len knows, but knowledge of a worse future doesn’t alleviate the present much. 

“I’m going to tell you in very clear terms what I want you to do next,” Zoom says, crouching in front of Barry. “All right?”

Barry’s made so nervous by Zoom’s sudden proximity that he almost foregoes a response until Zoom snaps his black-gloved fingers. “… ye-yes.”

Sighing, Zoom manhandles Barry into a straighter posture. “Don’t slouch. Remember, everyone at the CCPD is watching. You don’t want to put on a bad performance.”

“A bad--what?” Barry might not have any idea, but Len can see from the small but careful adjustments Zoom’s making to the boy’s body that he intends to maximize the frontal view.

“Stay,” Zoom instructs as he examines the results with a critical eye before standing up. “Here’s the important part: unzip your pants, take out your cock, and masturbate in front of your coworkers.” 

Barry has to hear the words, but it’s apparent he isn’t following as he continues to stare up at Zoom, who takes out a cell phone and sets an alarm.

“You have ten minutes. If you don’t come during that time, I’ll wake up Miss West and give her the best seat in the house to see everything I’m going to do to you.” 

Barry can’t seem to break his blank stare. Zoom shows his annoyance with Barry’s slow reaction by placing a heavy, booted foot on Barry’s crotch and applying pressure, eliciting an agonized cry as Barry doubles over. “Nine and a half minutes.” 

Within the first minute that Barry tries to comply with Zoom’s command, it’s obvious he’s only going to chafe himself. His hand’s shaking so much he can’t even get a firm grip. Zoom’s persistent comments don’t help.

“I used to have stage fright,” Zoom says in a conversational tone. “I got over it, though. Now I love attention.” He spreads his arms as though accepting a standing ovation. “You just have to suffer the critics. Or get rid of them, in my case.”

Eight minutes. 

It’s hopeless. Right here and now, Barry wouldn’t be able to bring himself to climax if he were watching live porn. Instead, he’s facing the cold gleam of a device that’s capturing every move he makes for the benefit of the people watching.

“Looks like he could use a hand.” The words come out casually but Len can hear the strain underlying the easy line because, fuck it all, *he’s* saying it.

Eyes widening, Barry twists to see this new threat from the dim corners of the room. Clearly, he hadn’t even realized there was another person here besides Zoom and he and Iris. 

Zoom levels his freakishly mild gaze at him. “Are you offering, Snart? That’s awfully nice of you.”

Len lets a thread of scorn enter his voice. “Honestly, it’s too painful to watch. I’ve seen sexier high school biology dissections.”

In response Barry curls in on himself, hiding his face in his arms. Len wants to vomit.

Zoom considers Len’s suggestion with more thoughtfulness than necessary, simply to draw out the fear and tension.

Len is reasonably sure Zoom will agree. Adding Len into the mix will add an unexpected dimension to a scenario Zoom has already set in place, but the monster seems to enjoy “creative” suggestions from his victims, if Barry’s own dismal situation is anything to go by. 

Len jangles the manacles attaching his hands to the wall. “I’ll need a hand to give him one,” he points out. God. Was he doing the right thing? Wasn’t he just prolonging the inevitable? There’s a small gust of wind … and he’s free, Zoom standing in the middle of the room again as if he’d never moved.

Rubbing his sore wrists, Len slowly gets to his feet, trying to think of a way not to further spook Barry into unsalvageable impotence. He’s aware, though, that Barry will only see his measured stride as the ominous approach of a predator. As Len is about to enter the lighted area of the room, he pauses because the next step will take him into view of the camera and add “rapist” to his list of official crimes. 

Len takes pride in what he does for a living; that his work is illegal only makes success more thrilling. He’s killed before, sometimes at point-blank range so that blood and other bits splatter his face, and forgets the slight queasiness by the next morning. At times, he’s even engaged in some of the harsher methods of interrogation, but he’s done so with purpose and then dispatched the victim quickly.

In short, he doesn’t feel inclined to apologize for past actions. Everyone he’s deliberately killed has, in his mind at least, which is good enough or him, reason to die without accompanying pity, whether as remorseless murderers themselves or because he was acting in self-defense.

The past sexual encounters he’s had have been brief, if fairly frequent, and only briefly satisfying. He prefers things that way because then they can each move on without complications. In his private life he only cares about Lisa and Mick. But he’s never resorted to force to have his way with someone. There’re some lines he’s doesn’t cross, as nonsensical as such ethics might sound when compared to snuffing out a person’s life.

Len know he’s hesitating too long. He takes the required step. And another. One more until he’s looming, face in shadow, over Barry, who’s trying to move away before remembering there’s nowhere he can go and ends by falling back onto his elbows. Steeling himself, Len follows the boy downward.

The boy instinctively struggles as Len’s warm and dry left hand closes firmly around his stubbornly soft genitals. Len has to hold him down by one shoulder, but fortunately for them both, Barry’s arms tangle in his partially unzipped jacket so he can’t get free, and he’s too panicked to realize how easily he could slip out. They’re practically nose-to-nose before Barry can focus enough to get a good look at Len. “Leonard Snart?” the kid breathes in disbelief. Len’s taken aback for a moment before remembering that his face is plastered on the CCPD’s priority list.

“Yeah,” he confirms gruffly, adjusting his left hand’s grip just a little so the tips of his fingers can tease at the sensitive spot behind the boy’s cock. Might as well make use of Barry’s distracted fanboy moment. 

Barry squirms apprehensively under him. “Um … Mr. Snart—”

Len’s a goddamn known criminal who, whatever his intentions and personal feelings, from all appearances is molesting—assaulting—a boy who looks like he could be carded at a bar if he gave off a particularly immature vibe that day. Len is not the friendly neighbor with two kids at the local high school, a middle-class job he’ll never quit, and a housewife addicted to daytime soap operas. 

At the moment, he can’t think of how this situation could be worse. Touching Barry, who’s so obviously afraid that his green eyes have gone glassy and whose skin is clammy with cold sweat, is like trying to make out with a mannequin in a department store that has the air conditioner blasting away.

Six minutes.

“Just Len,” he tells Barry, methodically using his elbows to urge the boy’s thighs apart so that he can kneel more comfortably between them. 

“M—Len … Len, I haven’t …” Barry starts to pant but keeps talking as if he doesn’t realize his body’s reaction to Len’s hold on him. “… ever … uh … uh …” His head falls back to loll heavily on his neck, but he’s still stuttering admissions Len would rather not have known. “I … don’t … what … uh … uh …” 

Len hurries his work along, pulling at Barry’s cock in long, tight strokes until the delicate flesh hardens. With his now freed right hand Len pushes the sweater under the jacket up, baring a slim, flat chest and small nipples flushed and taut from the sudden cold. 

Len’s been concentrating so deeply on fighting down his nausea at violating this innocent boy that he just now notices that Barry’s gaze is desperately fixated on him, as if Len’s the only anchor he has to stop himself from flying apart.

“Close your eyes,” Len instructs, inserting a soothing note into his voice. It might help Barry too, to forget his surroundings, but Len has to admit the command is selfish. Len isn’t sure he can keep going if he has to look the boy in the face. 

Barry obeys.

Four minutes.

Shit. The boy gets close, so close, and then loses the erection as he startles every several seconds, remembering where he is, who’s watching, and what’s happening to him. 

Three minutes. 

Now Barry can hear the seconds ticking away, and the knowledge only fuels his anxiety, rendering Len’s ministrations useless. Despair over his hopeless situation is winning over physical arousal. 

Len isn’t feeling optimistic himself. By this point, his very willing sex partner would have reciprocated enthusiastically, and they’d be enjoying mutual pleasure. 

Len’s next move will either cause the boy to wilt entirely or climax. There’s no in-between. He flattens his lower body onto Barry’s so that their crotches are aligned and grinds down with his hips. Barry’s eyes snap open at the first motion, and immediately roll back to show the whites at the second. A few more seconds pass and Len’s pausing to find a better angle before Barry says in a broken whisper, “Uhh … uh … please, Len … wait ... uh ... don’t ...”

There’s no time to listen, much less wait. Barry’s starting to think too much again, and Len has to put a stop to that. In response to Barry’s protests, Len pulls him forward with a hand on the back of Barry’s neck and presses his lips hard to the boy’s gasping mouth. 

Two minutes forty-five seconds.

Len makes the terrible parody of a kiss as filthy as possible, taking advantage of Barry’s parted lips to push his tongue inside and take control, forcing him to stay still with a grip on one shoulder and his other hand quickly shifting between the boy’s exposed nipples and rapidly stiffening cock. 

Barry’s flailing hands, not knowing where to go, settle on Len’s biceps and squeeze to the point of pain, disingenuously tugging him back when Len puts an inch of distance between them. They have to breathe. Barry’s near hyperventilating already but he’s whispering something repeatedly that Len doesn’t have time to pay attention to. 

A little more than a minute left. Almost there. Almost. Len mouths at Barry’s throat, feeling the pulse jump erratically beneath his tongue. This close he hears what Barry’s been saying over and over. “Please don’t make me come. Please. Please … don’t—”

It’s an irrational request and would defeat the whole point of this farce. But Barry isn’t thinking straight. Len will have to decide for him. Hands still occupied with the rest of Barry’s body, Len bites down at the juncture between neck and shoulder. 

That’s it.

Despite his apprehension, Barry can’t hold out against so many new sensations attacking at once. He comes with a sobbing whimper into Len’s mouth. Len sighs inwardly in relief, holding the boy as he shakes violently and moans. A pretty flush has spread over his cheeks and his skin has regained human warmth.

Barry hasn’t finished climaxing when the alarm rings. 

If that had not been enough reminder, a bright light startles them both. It’s Zoom, holding a phone a bit awkwardly in the air in front of him, its cameras lens glimmering. 

“I just remembered to turn on the flash,” Zoom explains. “I did have the lens zoomed in the entire time, though. The output ought to be in full HD resolution.” He sounds irritated as he continues, “I should have gotten a smartphone with one of those 4K cameras.” 

Len curses bitterly under his breath as Barry goes white again and automatically tries to close his legs. Before he can stop himself, Len snarks, “Not too tech-savvy?”

Zoom is looking down at the phone screen, fiddling with the touch options. “Now, now. Don’t be snippy. Ah. There we go.” Even before Zoom turns the screen to them, the sound of rustling clothes and soft moans makes immediately apparent what he’s showing them. 

Len looks stoically at the video replaying what had just taken place. It can’t be worse than seeing the horror-stricken humiliation he knows is on Barry’s face. 

“Goes by a little fast, doesn’t it? Here, I’ll slow it down.” Zoom presses another button, and the close shot of Len tilting Barry’s face up to kiss him shows Barry’s pleasure-dazed expression, saliva trickling out of the corners of his mouth, transitions into another close shot of Len’s hand fisting Barry’s cock as it hardens in slow motion. “I just learned how to add these … transitions, right?”

Barry makes a choking sound.

Zoom grins boyishly. “I think I’m getting the hang of this tech stuff. Pretty cool effects, huh? For a beginner.” 

Len prepares himself to turn to Barry, wants to say something, anything, but Zoom gets to him first. Flipping through a slideshow, Zoom says, “Back to what I was saying. What’s wrong with this picture?” He’s stopped at an early point, when Len first tried to arouse Barry by fondling his balls. Inadvertently, Len had lifted the boy’s genitals to give a clear shot of his tightly clenched anus if taken from a proper angle. “Besides the obvious—that you need to work on your seduction techniques, Barry. The virgin act is overdone.” 

It’s too much. Barry staggers to his feet, tripping over his own pants as he tries to snatch the phone from Zoom. Zoom only laughs and in the next instant is behind Barry, holding both wrists in a vice-like grip that lifts the boy off the ground, as he tucks the phone into his belt.

“I’m waiting,” Zoom says, his free hand snaking down the front of Barry’s pants, still loosely open at the crotch. In a single tug it’s down to his thighs. “So is everyone in the audience.” Frantic, the boy tries to kick at Zoom or twist out of his hold, but quickly realizes that every move causes his pants to fall further down his legs. It’s a little past his knees now. Barry stills, drawing in ragged breaths, beyond furious but recognizing his utter helplessness. 

Zoom lifts Barry’s swinging body higher to match his greater height and positions a knee to keep the boy’s legs spread. Barry cringes as his own weight crushes his bare genitals against Zoom’s muscled thigh before noticing that he’s on full display for the camera on the wall. Again, his struggles only spread him wider. He’s crying, body involuntarily jerking with the force of his sobs, and whatever Len does will make the situation worse. 

But Len has to do something. He takes a chance. “You told him to get himself off,” Len says flatly. “I did it for him.”

Zoom turns to him, smiling with approval, before looking back on Barry with a severe eye. “Precisely. That was the deal. I held up my end and knocked out Miss West as we agreed.” He inclines his head at the unconscious girl in the cage. “Gently, too. You, however …” Zoom shakes the boy a few times, as if to chastise him. 

Barry’s pants pool around his ankles. With his shirt twisted inside his jacket so that it rides up high on his chest and bunches under his arms, Barry’s effectively naked from the neck down. He goes rigid in realization but somehow manages to speak. “I’m … I’m sorry,” Barry stammers, looking sick to his stomach. “I’m sorry. I tried … I …” 

“Not hard enough, it seems,” Zoom remarks, with a little chuckle at his own joke. “But Snart doesn’t seem to have the same problem.” 

Snart glances down and is genuinely surprised to see that he has an erection. It doesn’t seem possible that his head has so disconnected from his body that one doesn’t know what the other is doing. The last couple of minutes, when he’d held the boy as Barry clutched at him and shuddered through orgasm, had been more to comfort than offer anything else. That part hadn’t been terrible. Near the end, Snart had closed his own eyes and concentrated on what would make Barry feel good, which was what he’d have done under ordinary conditions. The boy’s unpracticed but honest response had engendered reciprocal enjoyment on Len’s part.

“I’m disappointed, Barry. I thought you’d do better. But, we have to keep moving on or we won’t finish everything I had planned for today’s agenda.” Zoom lets the boy’s wrists fall to his sides but keeps Barry still dangling in the air with a crushing hold on his narrow hips. Surprised by the sudden release, Barry would have pitched forward if Zoom hadn’t positioned his grip so that Barry would fall back against him. The boy shouts in surprise, but then quiets. Instead of struggling this time, Barry goes motionless except for the occasional full-body tremor. The brilliant green of his eyes is the only color in his ashen face. 

Len doesn’t know the reason for Barry’s extreme reaction until Zoom demonstrates with an obscene upward thrust of his pelvis, using his grip on Barry’s hips to rock him back and forth until the boy is simply bobbing helplessly midair. He thrusts a few more times and then tosses Barry in a sprawl onto the ground. Now that Barry’s body isn’t swaying in front of Zoom, Len can see that Zoom is sporting an enormous erection himself. 

Standing up, Len forces his expression into impassivity, but his skin is crawling as Zoom says, “That show you two put on was … a bit PG-13 for my tastes. I like my entertainment a little more mature.” Suddenly he’s leaning on the cage containing Iris, who thankfully hasn’t stirred. Barry starts to say something before Zoom holds up hand, looking between the boy and Len.

“That said, do I need to step in to address my concerns? Or do you think you can take care of it for me, Snart?” Zoom flicks a middle finger against the cage’s bars, causing a metallic sound to ring out.

Len knows the “correct” answer but he can’t bring himself to say it. 

Malice dances in Zoom’s eyes, distorting his handsome appearance. “You two seemed to be getting along so well. I thought you’d like to make a good first impression for Barry, rather than, say, his sixth or seventh, after I’m done with him.” 

Zoom makes a careless gesture, as unconcerned as though his huge cock isn’t visibly engorged in his pants. “He’s fucked either way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIEW - subject to change. 
> 
> “Len?” 
> 
> Barry again. Len wishes the kid would shut up because maybe then he can pretend that there isn’t a goddamn decent person about to die right in front of him. “You talk too much,” Len says harshly, and immediately wants to take it back.
> 
> “Sorry,” Barry says meekly, and doesn’t continue.
> 
> “Just say what you want,” Len grits out through his teeth.
> 
> “Oh. Uh. Thanks. It’s—I—” Barry trails off into a whisper so that Len has to strain to hear. “I’m really scared, Len.”
> 
> You should be, Len thinks grimly. You fucking should be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I read the headlines: ‘The Flash streaks by in a blur.’ Unfortunate choice of names, if you ask me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very, very unhappy with the way season 4 is going. Grr ... 
> 
> As usual, please leave a comment. Your kind words keep me writing. <3

This isn’t a choice or even a test, at this point. Zoom just wants to screw with them every way possible. Len glances over at Barry, who he finds staring back at him, looking absurdly vulnerable, his semen-stained pants hanging off one ankle, dirtied white cotton socks still on his feet. “Please, let me,” Len says, biting off the words with as much sarcasm as he can muster.

“Well, if you insist.” Zoom melodramatically backs off. “I assume you need some space to work?”

“And more than fifteen minutes would be appreciated,” Len says, though he’s not overly hopeful of getting this request granted.

Zoom smirks at Len’s demand; they both know Zoom’s only going along insofar as he’s amused by the situation. “Sure. I’ll get a good game of Traffic Rider going.”

It’d be easier on himself and Barry if he took the boy on hands and knees. In addition to the logistics of the position, they’d hardly have to interact with each other on a personal level at all.

“The next … hm, hour … is going to be filler,” Zoom informs the camera. “Although, I doubt that the true fans will change the channel. The finale will be just too exciting to accidentally miss.” He relaxes into an armchair that just shows up near the entrance.

Len’s trying to figure out how to make this work with the least pain involved. He’ll jerk the boy off again, or at least get him aroused enough to relax. Len hasn’t missed the conspicuous omission of a condom or lube. How to proceed from then on … he’ll play by the seat of his pants.

Caught up in unhappy musings, Len’s surprised to see that Barry has shuffled over and is now kneeling in front of him. He might have been talking already but Len hasn’t been paying attention, so he just nods, still distracted. There’s a look of intense concentration in the boy’s face that’s more in relation to a final exam that he hadn’t studied for than fun impromptu sex as he places his hands on the ground and lowers his body so that he can mouth at Len’s still covered crotch.

Len almost jumps out of his skin at the first unexpected touch of moist breath on him. “Jesus!” His cock is distinctly not thrilled when, surprised himself by Len’s abrupt reaction, Barry sits up.

“Sorry,” the boy whispers, chagrined. “Did I … did I something wrong?”

Yeah, you listened to my big mouth and stopped what you were doing. Len takes him by the shoulders so that they have direct eye contact. “First, warn a guy.”

“I asked. You nodded,” Barry says, puzzled.

“You want explicit verbal permission,” Len tells him, belatedly realizing he’s coming across as a pedantic lecturer on the ethics of consensual sex. From Barry’s stifled if nervous laugh, he agrees. “… in normal conditions,” Len admits.

Barry considers this. “I’ll take that under advisement.” Cheeky brat. “Can I give you a blowjob?”

“Do you know how?” Len has to ask. He’s actually not going to accept Barry’s offer regardless of the answer, but his response will help Len gauge how far the boy’s along in his personal sex life. As it turns out, not far.

“Um. I won’t bite. I’ll try not to,” Barry amends, uncertain again.

“Right. We’re going to stick to hand jobs and then … go from there.”

Barry really is laughing at him, albeit quietly. “Len, I know what happens at the end.” He sobers before continuing, “I’m really— thanks for—well, the pity fuck,” followed immediately by an automatic, “Sorry.”

Len can’t recall the last time he’s had such an awkward conversation, except, true, since he’d basically raised Lisa, he’d had to read up on menstrual cycles and other specifically female signs of puberty.  
“Guess I’m just that good a Samaritan,” Len tells him, dryly. He can hear Zoom humming absently, off-key, along to the game theme. “We might as well get started.”

Barry nods and reaches for the zipper on Len’s pants. Len’s about to protest that he can do that himself, but then decides against it. Giving the boy some measure of control would probably be a good change of pace for him.

Giving in, Len reaches for Barry himself and starts to pull and stroke gently. Luckily for them both, the boy responds beautifully.

"Len ... uhn … why're … uh … you here?" It's Barry, looking at him with a grave curiosity that would be amusing if his breathy gasps didn’t keep interrupting his words. What an innocent kid. It’s like he’s never been touched by another person besides himself.

Len stops momentarily, pondering the thought, before recalling their situation. “This really isn’t the time or place for chitchat,” Len hisses before going back to work.

“There isn’t going to be a … uh … uh … a better time or place,” Barry says, reasonably enough. The sobering realization allows him to recollect himself enough to take Len’s cock out of his pants and look at it curiously for a few moments before hesitantly putting his hand fully around it. His attempts to imitate what Len’s doing to him are a little funny and weirdly sweet.

Len sighs. “Zoom has my sister. I’m stealing something for him tonight.”

Barry tilts his head to the side, appearing like nothing more than an inquisitive owl. “Something he can’t get himself? That’s strange.”

Barry seems much calmer now than before, and Len has to wonder why. The boy must sense his surprise because he explains with remarkable steadiness, “I won’t have to … uhn … face anyone … after … uhn .. today.”

The matter-of-factness in the way he says this might possibly be most horrible way Len’s ever heard horrible news delivered. He resigns himself to conversation because the alternative is too fucking sad. Barry might as well have some last good memories, however worthwhile those will be in the end.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” They might have, actually, but if Len had encountered Barry Allen on the street before now, it’s completely slipped his mind because the young man is just so unassuming.

“Oh, we … uhn … haven’t,” Barry assures him. “I’ve seen you on surveillance cameras.”

Len’s eyebrows raise. “Are all CSIs voyeurs like you?”

Barry sputters and then laughs a little. “It’s in the … uh …job description.”

“You’re a little young, aren’t you?”

“I’m twenty-four,” Barry says, firmly enough that Len can tell he’s had to prove this fact many times. Len breathes out and surreptitiously starts coating his fingers with the precome that’s trickling from the tip of Bary’s cock.

“Like I said. You must have just joined, then.”

“A few years ago,” Barry says, as if that wasn’t unusual. “I double-majored and graduated early.”

Len typically doesn’t admire booksmarts. But he can appreciate that Barry’s bright, even if he is stupidly naïve. He nods along as Barry continues to prattle on about a brilliant scientist, some Dr. Harrison Wells, whose particle accelerator had unfortunately exploded, silently dropping his hand to press the pads of his fingers against the rim of Barry’s opening. Barry jerks and falls silent, his lips pressed together, body tensely unyielding.

“That’s a coincidence,” Len remarks idly. “I’ve been in this business since … hm … since you were born, kid. But I only got on the CCPD’s radar as me a few years ago. I’m guessing you helped them out.”

Unexpectedly, Barry stifles a sound that is suspiciously akin to a snicker. He’s stopped touching Len. Len notices, and his cock notices very much, but he decides not to comment.

Len frowns. “Why is that funny?” He covertly slips a finger into Barry. The sensation waiting for him makes his cock jump like he’s a teenager again.

“It’s an … inside joke,” Barry tells him, humor fading from his voice, replaced by apprehension despite his obvious efforts to keep talking.

“Sure. The joke’s so inside you’re the only one laughing.” Len adds another finger, eliciting a half-aroused, half fearful shudder.

“Iris would laugh too. She’s in on it,” Barry informs him.

Silence. Len thought he should say something to divert Barry’s attention from the slick sounds Len was making while fingering him. “I’m guessing you became a CSI to catch the bad guys.”

”No—I ... I wanted to help—uh ... help people.” The kid pauses and glances down. “Um. I know this is a stupid question … but how are you going to, uh, fit?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Len says calmly. “Keep talking.”

“Okay,” the boy says obediently. “Uh. What—ummm—what should I talk about?”

Now he’s speechless. Great. “Anything. How about … those rumors about a red streak in Central City? What do you think it is?”

Barry somehow brightens visibly even his shoulders hunch while Len manages to push in another finger. “Definitely a speedster.”

“A … what?”

“A metahuman who can run really, really fast.” Barry took a deep breath, exhaled, and took another.

“Uh huh. So another Zoom. How is this good news?” Len’s always enjoyed the preparation part of sex, liked to take his time, take his partner apart before putting her, or him, back together. This hasty act, besides the actual imminent rape, is driving home exactly how wrong the entire scenario is.

“No. The Fla—he isn’t like Zoom at all.” Barry’s hands are grinding into Len’s arms as Len scissors his fingers several times.

“No, daydreams usually aren’t evil incarnate.” Len grunts as he positions himself and adjusts Barry for penetration. “I read the headlines: ‘The Flash streaks by in a blur.’ Unfortunate choice of names, if you ask me.”

Barry’s eyes are an incredibly vivid green, Len notes as the boy locks eyes with him, determinedly not reacting too badly to the beginning intrusion. “You don’t think the Flash is real? That he’ll do something about Zoom? He’s not as fast yet, but—”

Len snorts. “The Flash of Central City will save us all. Yeah. Barry, he’s a fairytale people made up because reality’s a shithole. A fairytale like a serum that can stop Zoom.”

Barry stares at him, wide-eyed from more than the slow, torturous slide Len’s making into his body.

Trying to turn his gaze from Barry’s flushed face, Len makes the mistake of looking down instead and sees where their bodies are joined. The sight is so fucking hot he almost finishes right there. As it is, Len can feel himself harden even further and grow bigger. From Barry’s wince, the boy can feel it too. “Sorry,” Len says, carefully, to keep his voice from shaking.

“It’s … it’s, uh, okay. Len, listen to me. The Flash and the serum aren’t made up.”

Len frowns, thinking. “How do you know?”

Barry leans forward, so close his lips brush Len’s ear.

“I’m seen it. The serum works on the Flash.”

Len closes his eyes. The entire world seems to balance on the sudden hope Barry has just given him. “The serum. That must be what Zoom wants me to get for him. It’s inside Argos HQ.”

Barry shakes his head. “No.”

“You know where it is, then?”

“Yes.”

The information is so staggering that Len freezes before he’s fully reentered the boy. “My God, Barry—”

Barry’s eyes dart to the side and back and then he tugs Len forward by the arm, literally pulling Len into him. Seeing Barry cringe in pain at the sudden invasion, Len remembers himself enough to reestablish control of how fast he’s moving.

“Barry—if you tell Zoom—you could—there’s a chance—” Len tries to think about how exactly Barry could use the knowledge to his advantage—there must be a way—but his mental faculties are fogged by the hot, incredibly tight feeling of Barry’s body around him.

“No. Zoom—he can’t … uh … find out.” Barry grits his teeth and Len isn’t thinking when he catches a flushed earlobe and starts sucking on it to distract the boy.

They resettle into a slow rocking rhythm and it takes a few more seconds for Len to remember his train of thought. “Of course you have to—”

“The serum is our only chance to bring down Zoom now.”

“Wait. What about the Flash? Maybe he could—”

Barry shakes his head. “Forget about him. I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

“Why not?”

“He’s not … he’s not going to be a factor, moving forward.” Before Len can ask further, Barry continues quickly. “Go to Star Labs. Tell them you’re a friend of mine. Caitlin and Cisco will help you with whatever you need.”

And what do I say happened to you? Len wants to demand. “That easy, huh?” is what he manages to get out.

They don’t talk again after that, until Len comes in a gradual, terribly satisfying climax. He pulls out.

Len doesn’t realize he’s crying before Barry reaches over to brush away a traitorous tear from his eye and gives him a sweet smile before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. There’s a rising tide of an unbearable tightness in Len’s chest, and he’s so caught up in not being overwhelmed that he almost doesn’t hear Barry’s last words to him.

“Don’t watch, okay?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The missing scene that exactly one person asked for. Part 1 of 2 or 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This stuff is horrible and intense and very short. Please leave a kind comment and don't kill me. I noticed that at least one person took me off their bookmarks list because I'm creepy and pathetic and sad like that.

Zoom grabs Barry’s chin and forces their gazes to meet. “I want you to look at me while I’m fucking you. Otherwise, my attention might wander. Do you understand?” The boy nods, panicked, and then has to visibly stifle a scream as Zoom pushes into him: too fast, too hard, too big.

Knowing now how responsive Barry is to stimulation, how sensitive to a light touch, seeing and hearing him mauled by Zoom is like a physical punch to the gut. Zoom’s biting brutally at the boy’s throat, a fist in his hair pulling his head back for better access. Barry’s entire body is shaking in protest as he’s penetrated again and again, and imprisoned in his cell Len wants to yell at him not to be brave, to … to …

… there’s nothing that can be done.

Now Zoom’s spreading Barry’s thighs further apart and shoving downward, bending him in half until his ankles are touching his shoulders. With the continual force of the assault, the boy's position has to be agonizing. Barry’s trying to continue staring at Zoom’s face but after several minutes of this his eyelids start to flutter shut, only to snap open again upon remembering Zoom’s threat. Eventually he blacks out, though, and remains unconscious even after Zoom slaps him a few times.

“The kid can’t listen to simple instructions,” Zoom mutters. Len has only seconds to be glad for the reprieve before Zoom thinks of another idea. In another few moments Zoom has a dog collar and leash in his hand, of all things, and a bottle full of questionable fluid. He holds up the objects for Len’s horrified appraisal and grins. “Don’t worry; I’ll get my fun, one way or another.”

Zoom fastens the collar around Barry’s throat and then flips over his limp body so that he’s swaying in the air once more, held up only by Zoom’s grip on the back of his neck. “Sorry,” Zoom says to the camera. “I got a little carried away and you all didn’t get a clear view.”

The monster’s so goddamn strong he can lift the boy with a painful-looking hold on one shoulder as he twists the leash in his other hand and pulls. The shock of the action causes Barry to immediately come to; he claws at the collar, legs kicking uselessly. He’s gasping desperately for breath, mouth open and working without result.

Len has been trying to think of Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, but … “Stop! You’re killing him!”

“Not yet. I still have plans for him.”

Barry’s struggles are starting to subside. His arms fall to his sides and he simply hangs there, his eyes half-shut and blank.

It’s then that Zoom loosens the collar, reaches for the bottle, and tips the boy’s head back before pouring the liquid between his parted lips. Barry rocks back a little but can only choke down most of the fluid; droplets trickle off his face. Len doesn’t have long to wonder what Zoom gave him.

Even as Zoom resumes tightening the collar and Barry again begins to gasp helplessly, fingers digging into his own neck, Len sees that the boy’s cock is getting hard and bobbing obscenely between his thighs.

Zoom reaches for his balls and tugs on them viciously, forcing a rasp of pain from Barry, who’s fading in and out. “Now, that’s a nice view,” Zoom announces. He’s still hard himself and gets back into position so he can fuck Barry from behind while still holding onto the leash, forcing the boy's body back into an impossible arc. Zoom's hips snap back and forth. The boy jerks hopelessly with each penetration but is too weak to even respond and can only moan hoarsely, cock jumping in time with Zoom’s thrusts.

The noises Barry’s making aren’t those of pleasure or even totally of pain. No, he sounds like he’s losing his mind.

Lisa, Lisa, Lisa …

 

NEXT TIME

“Do you … do you think this’ll end soon?” Barry whispers. “I’m—I’m really scared, Len.”

Oh God. The kid wants to know when Zoom’s going to finish him off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually takes place later, in chapter 7 or so. I’ll fix the continuity soon.
> 
> Iris wakes up in time to see Zoom finish with Barry.
> 
> *It's not humanly possible to survive what Barry goes through, but we'll see what happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is seriously, seriously horrific stuff. At least I think so. If you've read from the beginning, you'll notice there's a chapter missing between the previous one and this--what Zoom does to Barry while Len watches. At this point I'm not entirely sure how to handle that. 
> 
> From this:
> 
> At some point Zoom’s acquired a dog collar with a leash and cock ring.  
> The noises Barry’s making aren’t those of pleasure or even totally of pain. No, he sounds like he’s losing his mind.
> 
> *****
> 
> You can probably tell what happens isn't pretty. I usually love to hear feedback, but I'm honestly freaked out by what I just wrote. Please be kind. If you want the Len watching Zoom and Barry chapter, uh, let me know.

Iris wakes up to someone shouting … cursing … begging. Her head aches. It’s so hard to think. She has to take in one detail at a time and hope that the entire picture comes together afterward.

Her first thought when she can focus on him is that Barry should pull down his jacket. It’s cold in here. She’d gotten it for him a few days after he’d woken up; it was the right size, but too broad in the shoulders. Enduring her helpless giggles and apologies amid offers to return the item, Barry’d decided to keep the jacket after a sudden downpour had caught them unawares and he’d been able to use it as a fairly effective umbrella for them both.

“For a rainy day,” he’d told her earnestly, with a gleam of mischief. She’d burst out laughing at the silly joke, and he’d joined in. They’d still been grinning like crazy idiots, her arms hugging his waist, his free arm wrapped around her shoulders when they got home to find her dad watching football and her boyfriend waiting for her.

Eddie had immediately extracted her from Barry’s hold and embraced her, wondering aloud why she’d left the CCPN building—he’d come by but she’d already left. She’d sobered then, recalling that she’d forgotten her date that night with Eddie when Barry had showed up to walk home with her. Glued to the game and not catching onto the reason for the sudden tension in the room, Joe had remarked distractedly over his shoulder, “Don’t worry so much, Eddie. Barry’ll keep our girl safe.”

And … the tension ratcheted. Iris mentioned leaving her cell at home. Then Barry spoke up: he’d heard it ringing in her bedroom earlier that day and put it in his pocket but forgot to give it to her. Eddie had only become more upset, although he tried to put on a cheerful attitude as they started dinner. Joe then broke in with a comment that made it seem like everyone was in cahoots to mess with Eddie: “You’ll learn, partner—when you want to get in touch with Iris, Barry’s the first call you make.”

The memory is so clear, superimposing on what she’s seeing now. Her current surroundings seem dim in comparison.

Iris blinks slowly, trying to understand why Barry’s expression is so strange. He looks … afraid. She hasn’t overslept that much, has she? Oh no. Recently she’s been depending on him to be her alarm clock. If she’s late for her news reporter training again, she might get cut from the program, and Barry’s been patiently nagging her to—something’s wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

“Iris, you’ve decided to rejoin us.”

She’s sucked back into the present.

“I almost took your boyfriend—Detective Prettyboy; after all, he’s Joe West’s partner too. I’d see you and Eddie Thawne chatting at Jitters during your shifts and making out after-hours if you were closing that night. But one day, this supremely unlucky Barry Allen walks in and just stands there, watching you serve coffee as though you kept the universe in existence. When you saw him and ran into his arms with a smile that really might have … how would bad romance poetry put it … rivaled the sun, I knew he’d be a better pick. You’d never looked at your boyfriend like that.”

Iris tastes iron in the back of her throat and the world goes a little gray. Her fault. This was her fault.

Barry’s eyes have started to slip closed. Zoom reaches over and grabs a bottle with a quarter of the liquid still sloshing around inside. “No, no. Don’t go to sleep.” Lifting Barry by the small of his back so that Barry’s head falls back and his slack lips part, Zoom pours the rest of the bottle’s contents into his open mouth, excess spilling out onto his chin and splashing onto the ground. What should have been a hacking cough to clear his airway is only a shallow contraction of his throat muscles. 

Her tongue feels heavy and thick and dry, and her frightened demand comes out as a whisper. “Stop--! What—what are—?”

“You’ll find out.” Zoom’s pleased smile twists into irritation as Barry fails to react sufficiently for his expectations. “Wake up,” he tells Barry, whose only response has been to silently choke, saliva and liquid bubbling at the edges of his mouth. He slaps Barry across the face, not especially hard, but enough to turn him so that Barry now faces her directly with his terrible vacant expression.

There’s just a slightest tightening in Barry’s features to indicate that Zoom’s decided on a new tactic. That, and the thick wet slurp accompanying Zoom withdrawing, only to flip Barry over and pull his unresisting body back down onto his lap in what could almost be described as a single graceful motion. “Ungh … ughn …”

Zoom sighs in pleasure as he readjusts himself inside Barry, grasping the boy’s heavily bruised hips to slam him down, raise him slowly, and then slam him down again as Barry’s torso flops back and forth with the movements. “Ungh .. ungh …”

Iris can’t look. She can’t. Barry. Oh God, please let Zoom kill him quickly and get to her so that his suffering will stop.

“You’d be justified,” Zoom says, pausing to catch his breath, “in thinking that fucking Barry like this would be the same as doing it with a corpse—which isn’t very fun, let me tell you.”

She’s never been a violent person, but right now Iris wants to fill Zoom’s windpipe with electric razors and then turn on the devices, to rip out his intestines piecemeal with a plier, shove him in a vat of acid—

“But, actually,” Zoom continues, grinning like he knows her murderous thoughts and that they delight him, “the experience is really quite incredible.” Before Iris realizes what she’s looking at, Zoom reaches down between Barry’s splayed legs, drawing her gaze to the juncture where Zoom is still thrusting into Barry. Zoom has lifted Barry’s genitals so that she can see the monstrous bloodstained cock shoving in and out of the gaping hole leaking semen and more blood, in and out, in and …

Iris cries out in horror and averts her gaze.

“He might seem like an obedient little fucktoy on the outside, but I can feel the fear and rage and helplessness pouring off him. It’s so beautifully unexpected, like watching lightning in a blue sky. And every time you look at him, he clenches down on me like he doesn’t want to let go.” Zoom nuzzles Barry’s ear and whispers, loudly enough for Iris to hear: “Come on, don’t fade away just yet. You haven’t told Miss West how much you love her.”

Tears slowly spill out from Barry’s unfocused eyes, but his body remains pliant otherwise.

The plea is useless, Iris knows there’s no reasoning with Zoom, but the words burst out. “Please—stop! What will it take for you to stop!?”

“So glad you asked.” Zoom is in front of her, clasping Barry by the waist so that he dangles loosely on his hands and knees. “Look at Barry’s face. Closely.” The numbness in her wrists gives way to agonizing prickling. She’s free.

The innocuous request takes her aback. When Iris hesitates, uncertain, the sharp odor of electricity fills the air once more. “N—no! I’ll do whatever—!” She’s too late. The current isn’t as strong as before, but even so Barry jerks and shudders erratically like a marionette in Zoom’s hold, and when it’s run its course, leaves Barry still spasming.

She’d thought it was physically impossible for her to cry anymore. But after doing what Zoom wants and looking into her best friend’s blank expression, empty of recognition, of _Barry_ , she finds she’s sobbing again.  

“Put one hand on his chest. There, you feel his heart beating for you?” The thrum under her palm is alternately jumping and slow, weak and hollow. “Don’t stop looking at his face.”

She obeys this order too. Her vision is too blurred to see much of anything.

“Give me your other hand.” She does so, her skin shrinking back at his touch. Zoom looks inordinately pleased with himself as he covers her fingers with his and guides them down Barry’s front, trailing from his come-splattered sternum to … his shockingly hard cock. Iris is so startled by the unexpected feel of precome leaking onto her palm that she almost gets out of Zoom’s grasp.

Zoom tightens his fingers on hers. “No, stay. Feel how hard he is for you. And keep your eyes on his face like I told you.”

“What are you trying to do!?” Iris forces herself to calm. Barry’s heart rate has accelerated dangerously at her panic, although his limbs and face barely twitch.

“Well, he wasn’t going to tell you himself.” Zoom starts moving his hand, manipulating her fingers to do the same as his.

She remembered the liquid Zoom had poured down Barry’s throat just a few minutes before. “You—gave him something—”

“True. But only to emphasize the point I’m making.” Zoom’s hand, and hers, continue to steadily stroke Barry, whose pupils have dilated hugely, nearly drowning out the green. Sweat glistens on his forehead and flushed cheeks; his lips are trembling, and she can tell he’s trying to speak—

“You had your opening. I’m going to tell the story now.” Zoom interrupts the moment by sitting back, carrying Barry’s body with him and pulling Iris forward so that she almost falls into Barry’s lap. “So, after that joyous reunion with the love of his life, Barry Allen is encouraged to come back the next day and declare his undying devotion.” He waves away Iris’ unspoken question. “Kid talks to himself when he’s nervous. Aloud. He should break that habit. You never know who could be listening.

Regardless. Barry gives himself a pep talk—out loud, where anyone could hear—and goes into Jitters. I don’t hear the rest, I’ll admit. But then, I didn’t need to. You should have seen Barry’s expression when he saw you kissing Thawne, Iris. The heartbreak was so appealing. It really touched me.” As Zoom is talking, he—and unwillingly, Iris—continue fondling the boy lying limply between them.

“So, the moral of the day is,” Zoom pauses in his—and Iris’—ministrations with Barry’s cock so that he could reach up to first caress, and then pinch, a swollen nipple, “you really should have fucked Barry when you had the chance.”

“Unngh …. uhn …”

Iris can’t find the words to respond.

“Then again,” Zoom smears bloody precome around the peaked nub before pinching again sharply, “considering your perspective, you might not appreciate how nice he feels. So sensitive. So fragile. So … laughably human.”

Barry’s skin is soft, even delicate, under her reluctant fingers; the increasingly slick contact with his cock isn’t unfamiliar or unpleasant at all—but she’s used to the sensation with Eddie, not Barry. She’s never—if Barry had been a girl, he still would have been her soulmate. For all the time they’ve known each other she’s held him in a different category from her boyfriends, reserved especially for him. He’s always been more important to her than any of them.

“I—ca---Ir—” Barry’s desperation is so strong he’s shaking from the effort to explain himself.

Iris is alarmed by his too-rapid heartbeat. “Barry. Barry! Don’t—I’m sorry. Please—don’t try to talk. Everything’s okay. Calm down, please. Please! Shhh—”

Blood starts to trickle from Barry’s nostrils, mixing with the tears. Zoom—and Iris—swipes a thumb over the head of his erection, causing his hips to shift minutely. “I—Ir—ughh---”

Iris claws at Zoom’s hand. He only increases the speed of his—and her— movements. He’s resumed thrusting into Barry as well, with more force than before, hitting something inside that forces spurts of blood-streaked come to land on the boy’s belly with every other penetration.

Blood is starting to trickle out from Barry’s ears. Iris cries out in terror. “You’re going to kill him!”

Iris can feel the tension in Barry’s loins building even as she knows he’s going to die, that these are the precious last few seconds she’ll ever have with him. She places her free hand on his face, trying to get him to focus on her. “Barry. Barry. You’re going to be fine. We’ll talk about everything, we’ll sort out—Barry—Barry—oh, God, Barry, please, please—!”

Without thinking, Iris presses desperate kisses to Barry’s lips, disregarding the blood dripping onto her face and fingers, so hysterical she imagines an orange-yellow light crackling across his skin, sparking her with warmth at their point of contact. “Barry, _don’t_ —” She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for—for him not to come, not to die, not to leave her—all of it, everything.

Zoom has been watching her with an amused smirk. “You weren’t awake at the time, but earlier I showed Barry a nifty party trick. You could call it a side perk of superspeed.” He lets her hand go. “Barry seemed to like it a lot.”

And then, still inside Barry, Zoom _blurs_. Barry’s body lurches forward, throwing Iris a few feet away. She’s stunned momentarily, only to be brought back to her senses by the now familiar sizzle of electricity in the air. “ _No_ \--!”

Barry’s eyes strain impossibly wide and then there’s blood everywhere, bursting from his mouth, gushing from his nose. He climaxes violently; the ejaculate splattering his chest is more blood than come. At the same time, Zoom lets out a guttural grunt of satisfaction, hoisting Barry’s still convulsing form against him until he’s finished.

Iris screams. And screams. She doesn’t stop screaming until Zoom pulls out with a satiated sigh and tosses what’s left of Barry at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, it seems Killer Frost makes an appearance with some news for Zoom.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ralph Dibney makes an appearance. Makes sense only in this story. Possibly. Hopefully?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing! No graphic violence in this chapter. It’s not gratuitious non-violence either—shocking! I totally conflated some events from season two and season four. The characters we know as metas in the show are metas in this story too. 
> 
> Please leave a kind comment if you can. I do this really sad creepy thing where I check story statistics and dive into the dumps when I see that another person unsubscribed with every update. Not that I want to force anyone to stay with TBITH if he/she doesn’t want to—but it’s discouraging to see, personally. T-T

Ralph Dibney is not a wanted man. At this point in his life, literally no one wants him—not his hard-won job at the CCPD, his former friends, his years-old estranged family, and his now ex-girlfriend. He doesn’t think of himself as a particularly vindictive person, but fuck, Ralph has a serious bone to pick with the sanctimonious little prick who’s responsible for his life reaching this nadir.

It’s been a couple of years since he got fired, but right now every bitter thought he had at the time is flooding back and he marches over to Star Labs, intending to give that little shit Barry Allen a piece of his mind.

It’s worse because he has to admit he’d liked the kid when Allen had first started as CSI, how he’d evinced such earnest determination to discover the truth. Ralph had admired his bright insight into cases when even senior officers were stumped. And, okay, he was pretty cute, and if Allen gave off the aura of shark bait, Ralph didn’t mind being a hero every so often if the kid had to be saved.

And then. And then. As far as Ralph was concerned, the guy was guilty and justice needed a push. Yes, he’d planted evidence, goddammit. Maybe, in retrospect, that hadn’t been the most ethical action to take. He’d done it for a good cause. Regardless, everything would have been fine.

And then self-righteous Barry Allen had to stick his nose into things.

Ralph had stood steaming in humiliation as Captain Singh chewed him out in his office and then told him to pack his things. Thankfully Allen had been circumspectly absent during that terrible no good very last day, likely due to a warning from Singh. Since then there’d been no contact. Of course, Ralph heard about the lightning strike later that had sent Allen into a coma. The news had elicited mixed reactions. The first had been shock and, possibly, horror and concern. Then Ralph remembered a very specific reason he should hate Allen and snidely, if briefly, thought the sneak deserved a little lightning strike, wake up him from his stupidly idealistic life.

But he didn’t. Wake up, that is. Months passed, and it’s not that Ralph checked in very occasionally, but … nothing. After realizing that Allen would probably never get out of his coma alive, Ralph’s grudge gradually seemed too petty to keep hold of. He’d move on. He’d get his life back on track.

Except he couldn’t. A few days ago, he’d discovered that the woman he’d picked up at a bar and was admittedly only casually dating had been using his detective skill set to find out pro bono blackmail material on a past lover. Yeah, he’s a fantastic P.I. No need to rub it in. Honestly, he hadn’t wanted to admit the embarrassing truth to himself and continued coasting on with the relationship as if they both knew what they’d wanted from each other and at least upfront with what that was.

His new occupation isn’t exactly thriving, either. Every day he goes into a miserable office to sit across his desk from horrible people who wouldn’t hire him except for seedy, small-time business.

So, yes. Ralph is a loser. He’s lost whatever makes life meaningful, the spark that had seemed so obvious when he’d been at the top of his game working at the CCPD.

And this goddamn belly pooch won’t go away. Ralph can’t stop poking it with dismal fascination. This kind of unbecoming body trouble hadn’t ever been a problem for his usually thin frame, until now. This is Allen’s fault too, somehow.

Existence had already been hitting a low point, in fact, when Zoom made his dramatic appearance in a show of lightning last year, nearly causing a bus to crash right into the interdimensional portal. Unfortunately for Ralph, he’d been sitting in that very bus and crashed into the windshield … and yet somehow survived to walk away.

In other circumstances, Ralph would certainly have looked into that giant question mark of How? He’s not sure he wants to know. Ralph wonders why he’s been feeling rather … floppy. He’s a little worried to figure out the reason—to stretch himself, so to speak, in investigating the weird sensation. To that end he’s trying not to run the gamut of facial expressions too much if he can help it, in case his face gets stuck that way.

So Ralph is storming into Star Labs (they really need to improve security). It’s uncharacteristically in complete darkness. All equipment and monitors are off. Frowning, he checks his phone. No signal. Nothing.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Anyone alive in here? Hello?”

Footsteps enter from another room and a flashlight abruptly shines in his face. There’s a grunt of recognition and then the blinding light dismissively veers elsewhere. “Dibney, we’re kind of busy here,” comes Cisco Ramon’s voice retreating back the way the young man had come.

Ramon. Allen’s techie buddy. Right. “What, busy still moping about the Accelerator failure?”

“Unlike some dirty cops—”

“I’m not dirty, you dickwad!”

“Evidence proves otherwise,” Ramon retorts. He stops. “Why’re you here?”

“I’m looking for Allen.”

“Funny. So are we.”

Now Caitlin Snow’s voice joins in. The biochemist with too many doctorates to count. Fun. “Don’t tell him that!”

“Don’t tell me what? Allen’s missing? Great. The best news I’ve heard all year.”

Snow shoves a flashlight in his face with a fierce expression made scarier with the stark lighting. “Don’t you dare joke about this. Anyway, it’s none of your business.”

Ralph squints. “Well, care to share why there aren’t any lights on?”

There’s a squeak of a wheelchair. “Because, Mr. Dibney, the entire city’s in the dark,” says Harrison Wells. “And regarding Barry's whereabouts, so are we.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ralph finds out why Barry hasn’t checked in with Star Labs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another horribly disturbing installment. Bad, bad stuff happens. If you’re reading, please know what you’re in for. As always, kudos, feedback, and similar support are very much appreciated and encourage me to keep writing. Scary …

Ralph squints. “Well, care to share why there aren’t any lights on?”

There’s a squeak of a wheelchair. “Because, Mr. Dibney, the entire city’s in the dark,” says Harrison Wells. “And regarding Barry’s whereabouts, so are we.”

Ralph finally comes after Allen for a good old-fashioned fist fight, and the kid manages to go missing?

Wells regards him, his solemn expression eerie in the extreme brightness of his flashlight, almost … sinister. “Perhaps you can help us, Mr. Dibney. Your experience as a private investigator could very well be invaluable. ”

Ralph holds up a hand to stop that train of thought before it leaves the station. “And I’d want to assist your little tech club because … why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Ramon snaps, whirling around from tinkering with a circuit board.

“Huh. I thought I was a dirty cop. We don’t have a moral compass; that’s part of our bad guy code.”

Snow sighs. “You’re not a bad guy, Ralph, all right? We know that. A confused idiot, sure. But not a bad guy.”

Ralph rolls his eyes. “You’re not helping your case to win my invaluable assistance.”

“How about this?” Ramon suggests. “If you help us find Barry, you can punch him in the face.” 

Ralph tries to not to grin too widely at the image those words conjure up. “You’re telling me you’d be okay with that.”

“I’d be in line right behind you,” Ramon snorts. 

“What Cisco means,” Wells interjects, “is that Barry’s supposed to check in with us every hour. It’s been four.”

Ralph whistles in surprise. “Why’d you have Allen on such a short leash? Afraid he’ll run off on you?”

Ramon opens his mouth, likely to make a nasty retort, when Snow says tersely, “He just woke up from a nine-month coma. We want to make sure he stays okay.”

“Maybe he wants some alone time,” Ralph remarks. “I bet gold there’s a girl involved.” 

After a moment’s consideration, Wells shakes his head. “No. This isn’t typical behavior for Barry.”

“Right. Allen isn’t still mooning after Detective West’s daughter, is he? Yeah, she’s hot, but—”

“That’s none of your business,” Snow interrupts. “Are you going to do something useful? If not, you can leave.”

Ralph frowns at her despite being unable to hide a small unkind grin. “I *am* helping. I’m going through a process of elimination for why Allen hasn’t been in touch for an entire, my God, four hours. Of course he’s gotten himself killed in the meantime. It’s not like no one has a reason to off him.”

Just then a tiny corridor down the hall lights up, though the rest of the lab remains dark. Ramon visibly prevents himself from throwing his flashlight at Ralph and instead hurries toward the light. Ralph shivers right before Snow jabs him hard in the arm with what feels like an icicle, and then goes after Ramon. What the hell? When had the lab become so cold?

“There’s something not right about your employees,” Ralph, still rubbing his arm, informs Wells, who’s already wheeling around to follow them.

“They consider Barry a friend,” Wells says over his shoulder. “He’s a really good kid.”

“Yeah, so great,” Ralph mutters. Left to his own devices, he decides to wander around. He’s not exactly pressed for time at the moment; if he’s not here, he should be back at his office trying to scrounge up enough business to make rent for the month. With the way things are going and his luck, he’ll be kicked out in a matter of weeks anyway.

A line of monitors to the side slowly brightens. Bored, Ralph lets his eyes flit over them. Movement in a tiny window in the corner of one screen catches his attention and he reaches over enlarge its contents. The knowledge that Ramon would hate him touching anything here, much less something, ahem, inappropriately personal like this video appears to be, spurs him to click.

“Hey, guess what I—“ Ralph’s about to call out a gross comment on workplace ethics and how watching hardcore porn is a definite professional no-no. The words die in his throat as he takes in the scene unfolding in front of him. 

What Ralph had assumed to be indecent amount of exposed pale flesh suddenly shifts to reveal an unmasked Zoom. The monster’s speaking to Ralph through the screen, the high definition resolution taking nothing from his strikingly handsome features. Ralph’s heart stops in terror before he realizes that, no, Zoom’s addressing an audience of some kind.

“For those of you just tuning in, let’s do a quick recap. I’m showing Central City a free sample of what happens to people who try to play hero.” Zoom pulls back and now that there’s some distance between him and the camera, Ralph sees that there’s a naked body crumpled on the ground by Zoom’s feet. The young man’s face is turned away but the signs of awful violence done to him are unmistakable. 

“This is Barry Allen,” Zoom continues. “You might all recognize him. I hope I don’t have to introduce myself. After all, Barry’s been working so hard to make me, Hunter Zoloman, famous.” 

Ralph hears the name but what he’s seeing and hearing is so unbelievable the facts don’t fully register.

Zoom reaches down to hook a few fingers into the collar around Barry’s neck, dragging him upright so that he’s swinging in the air like a tragic effigy. “You know, there’s a reason I had a secret identity,” Zoom tells Barry. “But you had to show off what a clever boy you are. Isn’t that right?”

From the heavy slackness of his limbs it’s clear Barry’s barely conscious, if at all. Zoom sighs loudly and and does something with his other hand that’s out of view of the camera. The boy’s body jolts. “Isn’t that right, Barry?” Zoom repeats.

Barry blinks slowly, as though only then realizing a question has been posed to him. “I … I’m sorry …” he slurs, the words almost inaudible

Zoom smiles. “Are you? Why don’t you tell everyone exactly what you’re sorry for?”

“I’m sorry … sorry … I couldn’t stop you,” Barry finishes in a broken whisper, head drooping back as if that final defiance had required all his remaining strength.

Zoom doesn’t respond for a few moments. Then he says, “Don’t feel too badly about it, Barry. Who could possibly catch up to the fastest man alive?” He smiles and runs a proprietary hand over the boy’s bare chest, pausing to twist and pinch the already swollen nipples before scraping deep bloody lines down his sides.

Zoom hoists Barry a little higher. Now the boy’s painfully hard cock, straining against the heaving concave of his belly, is on display. His hips jerk involuntarily when Zoom idly encircles the base and squeezes. A little higher still, and there the slow slide of precome mixes with blood to trickle down the insides of his thighs as Zoom forces them apart and—

He can’t—he can’t—Ralph’s mind blanks. Before he can think better of it, Ralph drives a fist through the monitor.

Reacting to the noise of breaking glass, Ramon yells, “What the hell are—?”

Ralph finally, finally, finds his voice. “Ramon! Snow! Get over here, now!”

 

PROBABLE PREVIEW:

There’s something very strange and disturbing in Wells’ expression. Ralph doesn’t know how to identity it. Snow and Ramon share identical looks of shock and horrified terror. Wells, he looks … shocked, yes, but also … hungry, somehow, and furious at the same time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it occurs to me that the earlier scene I wrote with Iris waking up was horribly bloody and, well, horrified readers. Clearly the solution was to write an equally horrible but alternative way for Zoom to finish with Barry that might be a little closer to the show. A little.
> 
> More bad news? Or ... ? Could it be ... ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short but super important installment. Please leave a comment if you—I won’t say “like” because I don’t think anyone, including myself, *likes* this story—but are reading. I truly appreciate everyone who takes the time to do so. :)

“Come, “ Zoom is whispering into Barry’s ear, tucking his chin over a ravaged shoulder. “Everyone’s waiting.” 

In front of them Barry cries out, his voice wretched and wrecked, looking like he wants to die, and arches his back. 

****

Len can almost hope that the monster is going to leave, that he’s forgotten about Iris and thus give Barry’s suffering some meaning. But Zoom slows as he approaches the entrance to his lair. “Ah. I almost forgot.” Zoom smiles, first at Len, and then into the camera. “To put you in the proper mindset for tonight,” he tells Len kindly. And to the camera, “This show has had a nice run, hasn’t it? But, sorry to say, it won’t be renewed for next season.” Zoom hauls up Barry by the neck so that his battered, ridiculously fragile body is hanging loosely in the air, the damage done to him on conspicuous display. 

Zoom keeps still for a few moments, presumably for maximum effect. Len doesn’t realize he’s stopped breathing until his lungs start to starve for oxygen. But he can’t move. He knows what’s coming, but seeing it happen, almost in slow motion, is something else entirely.

Zoom slams a powerful knee into Barry’s back; the effortless ease with which he does it, the sight of Barry’s head tossed back in helpless reaction to the force of the blow, the sharp sound of bone cracking … aren’t things Len will ever forget. And then Zoom carelessly drops Barry’s body to the ground. He turns to the camera a final time, saying genially as he comes close, “Thank you for watching” before smashing the lens.

Len shuts his eyes, unwelcome tears leaking out regardless. The left region of his chest throbs fiercely, and he wonders, distantly, if a man can get a heart attack from seeing someone who he’s known for less than a day—someone who never had a chance to survive from the moment he said his name aloud—die like this. So terribly. So … hopelessly. 

Suddenly there’s a sense that the air is moving. Len only has time to blindly before a—portal—opens up and the metas known as Reverb and Killer Frost step out, holding a hapless-looking, tall, skinny young man between them.  
Zoom appears annoyed at their apparently unexpected appearance. “I said not to do that unless I called for you,” he says, gaze flicking with displeasure over his two minions.

Reverb nods, his smile both smug and obsequious. “City’s gone dark, boss. Couldn’t reach you.”

“Hm.” Zoom takes in this information with disconcerting equanimity. “Then, to what do I owe this visit? Who is this?” He indicates the glaring young man who’s trying to rip his arm away from Killer Frost’s grip—only to literally leave it there. His arm *elongates* and flops to the floor.

“We found a new meta,” Killer Frost says belatedly. “You said to report any new ones we came across.”

Zoom frowns, looking a little curious despite himself. “What do I need with play-doh?”

Killer Frost shrugs. “For fun. You could see how far he can stretch.”

Reverb interjects. “But there’s something else you should know. There’s been a definite sighting of the Flash.”

Killer Frost adds, “Eyewitnesses said he’s helping to fix the city generators.”

Reverb’s eyes slip downward and to the side just a bit, where Barry’s lying broken and still. He turns his face away, unintentionally toward Len, and Len sees him go white under the usual tan of his skin.

Killer Frost, almost with excessive determination, refuses to acknowledge the dead body in the room, and says casually, hand on hip, “If you hurry, maybe you can still catch him.”

Zoom’s expression immediately sharpens. He grins, lips stretching to show sharkish teeth, and turns to Len. “I’ll pick you up at 7.”

Then he’s gone.

***  
SPOILER  
Remember how Caitlin as Killer Frost heals immediately? I’m going with that for Barry.

*****  
Earlier at Star Labs:

Snow screams, shattering the moment of absolute silence following what’s happening on the screen. Ramon is in tears and fumbling with a pair of weird-looking gloves and Snow’s hair has turned completely white and she’s looking damned dangerous.

Ralph doesn’t understand what’s going on. His mind is blown to fucking hell and he’s babbling nonsense that doesn’t matter now except for the last bit. “Why does Zoom have Barry?! What are you two planning? How can I help?”

Wells holds up a remarkably steady hand. “Cisco, Caitlin, we have to consider a plan. Otherwise, you both will simply join Zoom’s list of victims and then no one will be able to help Barry.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescue! But problems continue to be ... problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! I hope this chapter meets the approval of the wonderful people reading this story. Please leave a comment if you liked it. :)
> 
> Unexpected pairings? Yeah.

They get Barry back to Star Labs. That’s the abbreviated version of the hideous reality, in which Caitlin had to freeze his broken body so that he’ll hopefully still be breathing while traveling through Cisco’s portal to safety. Snart—what the fuck, Snart?—is there and won’t leave the monster’s lair because Zoom has his sister, and hell if Ralph cares whatever his reason is. 

In all the times Ralph’s seen Snart on video cams, the criminal’s always been a smirking jackass. Now, though, he’d stared hard at the three of them, eyes wet and red, his perpetual parka stained crimson with blood at the wrists, as though he’d struggled like a crazy man at the metal shackles holding him—“Save him,” Snart had said, his voice barely audible. “Please, God.”

The final player is this fiasco was Iris, who’d woken up when Caitlin had come to get her out of the cage. By that time Ralph had covered Barry’s nakedness with a jacket, but even then, the damage was so extensive, they couldn’t hide the fact from Iris, who’d shrieked horrifically and demanded to know what was going on. Ralph and Ramon and Snow could hardly explain themselves and fortunately Snart kept his cool—Jesus, what the fuck is he even saying—and told her to get a grip until Barry was taken care of.

Even as Ramon is creating a portal, Ralph sees inexplicable sparks starting to surround Barry. When Snow excitedly called Ramon’s attention to this, the latter decided to take a side trip through something called the Speed Force. At this point, Ralph didn’t waste time asking. And then the miracle started to happen. Even as they watched, the heinous bruises around Barry’s throat and ankles and on his face began to subside. Beneath the jacket, they imagine the same happening. By the time they reach Star Labs, Snow tentatively thaws Barry enough to let the Speed Force magic to fully do its work.

Wells is waiting for them when they arrive, so tensed and alert Ralph found himself surprised the man wasn’t keeping himself in the wheelchair by sheer force of will rather than a physical disability. Snow hooks Barry up to various IVs and monitors but beginning with his shattered back and the more serious injuries, it looks like Barry’s going to heal.

Then Barry wakes up. He’d opened his eyes, taken one look at Iris, who stared back in shock, and shrank back onto the hospital bed, vitals dangerously spiking. Ramon wisely escorted Iris out of the room then. 

Wells leaned over and gripped Barry’s hand. “It’s okay, Barry. You’re safe. You’re safe.” 

Barry shook his head mutely, his eyes darting to the door from which Iris had left. “She’s safe, too. Don’t worry about anything.”

Barry’s shaking badly and now Snow along with Wells is trying to calm him down, while Ralph stands by helplessly. He feels like he should add his own reassurance. “Hey, rookie,” Ralph manages to say. “You’re going to be fine now,” thinking to himself that the biggest asshole lie he’s ever said in his life. He’s not great at putting on the whole bedside manner and the situation is just so fucked up he can’t imagine what would make it better.

Barry’s eyes snap to his and he cringes. “Hey, hey,” Ralph quickly. “We’re good, man. No problem here. Honestly, I deserved to get fired. You made the right call. I’m total scum. In fact—”

Snow shoves him in the side. “Will you get out?” she snarls. Wells is a little more diplomatic. “We appreciate your help, Mr. Dibney. We’ll take it from here.”

“Right. Okay. Yeah. I’ll just—yeah. Let me know how—okay. Leaving.” Ralph shuffles toward the door. Then the monitors start to wail and he can’t do anything but rush back.

Snow’s covered Barry with a sheet for his own sense of modesty but even amidst his thrashing it becomes apparent what’s bothering him. He’s so, so hard. His hips are shifting restlessly and he’s trying to shield his face from them and the space between his legs at the same time.

Wells tries to catch hold of Barry’s flailing arms, but his sitting position doesn’t allow him much leverage. Snow is trying to keep a clinical face, but her devastation is too great to let her do more than cry. 

Wells pulls Snow aside so that Ralph can only barely hear bits and pieces of the conversation. “Don’t know why … better if he’s unconscious … but we don’t know the effect … can’t give more … help him.” 

Snow leans over Barry, who’s holding himself absolutely still, eyes brimming with tears and his mouth tightly set. “Barry. Don’t—don’t—we can—” she places a trembling hand on his cheek.

At this gentle touch Barry sobs and turns his face away. “Please,” he moans, the first word he’s uttered. He grits his teeth and tries again. “I can’t—please—oh, please—don’t—” 

Wells puts a hand on his shoulder. “We won’t do anything you don’t want,” he assures him. His other hand slides down the boy’s side. Barry seizes up and would have fallen off the bed if Ralph hadn’t been standing on the other side.

The monitors continue to wail until it’s almost impossible to think. Snow shuts them off. “Barry. We need you to focus for a moment, okay? I know you don’t want—but who do—?” 

Barry swallows spasmodically, trying to sit up and failing because his arms are obviously too weak to support him. “Do it—do it myself—” He immediately collapses onto his back again, wheezing from the effort.

Snow offers softly, “Iris? I’m sure she’d—”

At this suggestion, Barry begins to hyperventilate. Snow quickly moves to calm him. “No, no. Not Iris. She won’t know anything that happens in this room. We promise.”

After some minutes of his lungs laboring and unable to draw in air, Barry sinks into a near-catatonic state. And still he hasn’t softened. Although the monitors are silent, the messages on the screen are blaring red and angry.

Wells and Snow urgently confer once more. The older man is reaching for Barry again when suddenly Ralph is shocked to hear his own voice. “I can—I can do it.”


End file.
